


Shattered Defenses

by some1_around



Series: 5+1 Tony Fics [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love, M/M, Nightmares, Obadiah Sucks, Parent Death, Rhodey Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Has Issues, Tony Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:04:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5575882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some1_around/pseuds/some1_around
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark hasn't led the luxurious and easy life most people think he has.</p><p>OR</p><p>Five times Tony Stark had his heart broken, and one time Steve helped to glue the pieces back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered Defenses

“Daddy! Daddy, look what I built! I did it all on my own!”

“Shush, Tony,” Howard hissed, putting his hand over the phone’s receiver and glaring at his son.

Tony didn’t lose his grin. He held up his circuit board, a little crude as it was made by four-year-old fingers, but amazingly impressive anyways. “Daddy, look what I made!” he said again.

Howard growled and turned away from Tony, storming out his office as he began to talk into the phone again. “Yeah, Stane, sorry. Tony’s just getting in my face again. I’m almost done with the latest SI product, don’t worry.”

Tony followed silently behind his father, bouncing on his toes and excitedly waiting for his father to get off the phone so he could show him the circuit board he’d made.

“Uh-huh,” said Howard into the phone and began pacing in the living room, nearly walking over Tony and still not seeing him. Luckily the little boy was used to his father’s single-mindedness and scampered out of the way before he could trip up the elder Stark. “Yeah, Obi, I swear I’ll get it to you by the end of the day if there’s no distractions.”

“Uncle Obi?” asked Tony, perking up. “Daddy, tell Uncle Obi how I made my first circuit board – I can use it to control my toys cars and-”

“Shut up, Tony!” Howard yelled, whirling on his son in a sudden fury and snatching the small green and silver board from the child’s fingers. “This?” He laughed. “This is what you’re so proud of? This is _worthless_ , Tony,” he said with a sneer and through the device at the wall with a loud smack. Tony’s wide eyes watched in terror as his project splintered apart and fell to pieces on the floor. It felt like his chest was mimicking the destruction. “How many times have I told you not to bother me with your stupid little ‘inventions,’” Howard mocked, and Tony dragged his eyes away from the ruined device to meet his father’s angry brown gaze.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he mumbled, looking down at Howard’s shoes. “I won’t do it again.”

“You’d better not,” Howard huffed, straightening up. “I have better things to do than cater to a little boy who thinks he’s special because he can attach a few strands of wire to a piece of cardboard.”

Tony sniffed and didn’t mention that it’d taken him weeks to learn how to properly do just that. “Sorry, sir,” he said again.

“And don’t mumble,” Howard snapped, pulling the phone back up to his ear. “Sorry, just had to deal with something inconsequential. I’m back now.”

Quietly, as Howard continued his business dealings, Tony trod to the corner of the room the bits of his circuit board had fallen. He scooped them up and cradled the pieces in his arms – only to throw them out in the wastebasket by the door.

Howard always said such things were useless anyways. Maybe he was right. Tony could do better.

He _had_ to do better.

+

Tony felt the tight muscles of his abdomen stretch as he reached up to grab his father’s most expensive bottle of scotch from the top shelf of the liquor cabinet in Stark Mansion’s dining hall. He sighed when he felt his fingers wrap around the ridged bottle and sagged against the shelves, resting there for a moment against the cool wood. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip. This couldn’t be happening.

With an almost animalistic yell, Tony whirled around and chucked the bottle of thousand dollar scotch against the opposite wall. It shattered and liquid burst out, before slowly dripping down the wall. Tony fell back against the cabinet in surprise at his outburst, before he slowly sank down as well, falling into himself at the foot of the shelves. Feeling seemed to leak out of his fingers to join the spilled alcohol on the floor but Tony didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, sprawled in a mess.

His eyes were itchy and undoubtedly red. Not that he’d cried. That was the problem. Jarvis… Jarvis was _gone_ and he couldn’t even cry. What the hell was _wrong_ with him? Why was he so _broken_?

His suit felt like a coffin at this point and in a sudden spur of movement he ripped the jacket of his shoulders – literally _ripped_ if the sound of tearing seams was anything to go by – and through it after the scotch bottle. It didn’t go as far, wind resistance stopping it as it fluttered down to land on the table.

Heart attack. Out of nowhere. One day he was fine and the next day… nothing.

Martha, the head cook and Jarvis’ wife, had been the one to call him. She was the only one who ever really understood how close he and Jarvis were – but it shouldn’t have been her problem. She was his _wife_. Tony was just the brat her husband had been paid to raise and she’d been paid to feed.

Tony pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, staring blankly at the jacket. Jarvis had bought it for him for Howard’s last Christmas party, the last time Tony had been home from college. And now… this. It occurred to Tony that the jacket was the last thing Jarvis would ever buy him, and he’d just destroyed it.

A sob hitched in his throat and he pushed his knees against his eyes, but he still couldn’t cry.

“Oh, Tony….”

Tony jerked up to see his mother, still in her funeral wear like him, standing at the door to the room and surveying the damage, before her eyes settled on him. Her eyes were full of – it was either compassion or pity. She opened her mouth and Tony straightened slightly, heart singing in hope. She was going to try and comfort him. She was sober for the first time in months. She was-

Maria just closed her eye and mouth and turned her face away from Tony, shaking her head before she walked away.

Tony’s heart shattered like the scotch bottle and tears finally began to drip down his face and it wasn’t long before his body was wracked in sobs.

Blindly he reached upwards and pulled down the closest bottle from the cabinet – a bottle of white whine – and popped the cork off with his teeth.

He might as well try to drown himself in the drink. Might be an improvement on his current situation.

 ++

_“My parents were incredible people. From my mother’s extensive charity work to my father’s revolutionary designs, they have changed this world for the better. They were my rock, my inspiration, and my cheerleaders, forever encouraging me and this country forward, into a better future. They will be sorely missed.”_

Just the thought of the speech made him want to through up.

Tony loosened his tie and took another swig from the beer bottle he’d brought with him when he made the educated decision to disappear from the funeral service to drink in a janitor’s closet in the church. There had to be something in the bible against this, but then again it wasn’t like Tony was going to Heaven anyway. Not like he believed in it.

Tony took another sip. He wouldn’t get drunk off of one bottle, but it did help to dull the sharp edge of life.

The funeral was being recorded to later be broadcasted, which Obi had – apologetically – organized. It was important for SI that the world and the board members saw Tony as a capable and strong-headed adult, even in this ‘time of sorrow’ as Obi had put it. He wouldn’t be taking the reigns of the company for another three or four years anyway, but apparently it was important. Despite his complete disdain for everything about this ‘event,’ Tony had made sure to disappear from the cameras before he started drinking. He didn’t want to disappoint his surrogate uncle today. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone really, but that was a hopeless cause.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and took another drink. Those were bad thoughts to be thinking – especially today.

 _You never got the chance to make Howard happy_.

It was the traitorous thought that had been flying around his head all day, all week. Just a month ago he’d finished the world’s first AI system and gained national respect and awe, but he hadn't seen his father in that time. Obi had been the one shepherding him past the news crews and through press conferences. Howard had just released a line of new weapons and was too busy himself. But… but they were scheduled to meet _today_ , the day of the funeral. Tony had been bouncing around in excitement before he’d gotten that dreadful call, because in under a week he was supposed to finally earn the respect of his father that he’d been craving for _years_.

Just proved to show you, the universe hated Tony Stark.

A sob hitched in Tony’s throat and he turned his head to the side. He had been _so sure_ that Dummy was going to be the invention the finally impressed Howard. He was so sure.

Ironic, huh?

And it _broke_ something in Tony, something that had already been broken _so many times_. It broke him to know he’d never get that approval from Howard.

And Maria… she was sick. Alcohol, drugs, medication, she’d tried so many different ways to escape the world and Tony mourned pitifully that he’d never see the day where she got better. Mourned Howard hadn't died on his own because without his father, Tony knew Maria would’ve gotten better, especially with his help.

Tony finished off his beer. It did nothing to dull the pain.

+++

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” Rhodey murmured softly, running his knuckles up and down comfortingly. Like Jarvis used to do, except Jarvis had died two years ago. Tony didn’t look up from where his face was buried in his hands. “Even if he had been for real, that asshole never deserved you.”

“But I loved him,” Tony said, words muffled from his hands and pitifully soft. “I really, really loved him.”

“I know you did,” Rhodey answered, and his words sounded so _sorrowful_ and Tony hated to have put that there. Rhodey sighed and his hand stilled. “I know you did, buddy.”

“Why does nobody love me?” Tony gasped out because suddenly he was sobbing, sobbing so damn hard that his voice cracked and this was _embarrassing._ Rhodey just wrapped him up in his arms and cooed soft words into Tony’s hair, not commenting on his breakdown other than soft “there there”s and soothing “you’ll be okay”s. Tony was going to have to claim he was drunk later just to alleviate the embarrassment, but he wasn’t. He hadn't touched a drink for months, because Rhodey had asked him not to after the last time he arrived back at their dorm room, rip roaring drunk after a night out with Ty. Tiberius, of course, was no where in sight, ad Rhodey had been furious. And the next morning when he’d asked Tony, barely seventeen, to stop drinking, at least until they finished school, well… never was it said that Tony could stand against Rhodey’s puppy eyes when they were in full force.

But god _damn_ did he want a drink right now.

“I love you,” Rhodey promises, fingers curling in Tony’s hair. “Tony, you have to know that, okay? I love you.”

“I thought you were straight,” Tony questions, voice scratchy and ruff from his impromptu sobbing session.

Rhodey huffs a short laugh. “Not like that, idiot,” he grumbles, shifting a little. “But you’re my best friend. And I want you to know that if that asshole ever gets out of jail and tries to so much as touch you, I will beat the ever-living shit out of him. Again.”

Tony laughs weakly and nods and tries not to think. Tries not to remember how Ty, beautiful and strong Tiberius Stone had wanted _Tony_ but not for the reasons he’d claimed. He’d said he loved Tony, but it was all a lie. He’d been a plant, paid by Viastone as an attempt to steal information from Stark Industries right when the company was at its weakness, after the death of its founder and CEO, Howard Stark. He, along with Maria, had died in a car accident six months ago. Ty had come in a month later, and Tony, stupidly, had assumed he was some kind of angel to bring light to Tony’s dark life.

How stupid that sounded now. He knew better now.

“It hurts,” he mumbled into Rhodey’s neck, not having to explain further – he never had to explain anything to Rhodey. Rhodey knew. Rhodey understood.

“I know, Tones,” he sighed, holding Tony closer to his body in comfort. “I know.”

++++

He doesn’t see it coming. Would never see it coming, not from Obi. Not from the only one left. Maria, Jarvis, Howard, they were all gone – they’d been gone for decades. But Obi still remained. Obi, who’d had time for him even when he was a child and his designs couldn’t do more than program a toy car. Obi had been there. And now….

And now.

“Breathe. Breathe, easy. Easy. You remember this one right? Shame the government didn’t approve this one.”

_Yes, yes my tech that’s my tech, Obi. Obi, what are you doing? Why did you use that on me? Obi?_

“So many application for causing short term paralysis. Ah Tony, when I ordered that hit on you-”

_What? No. Not… not Obi._

“-I worried that I was killing the golden goose.”

_Obi… please no… please not you. What are you doing?_

“But you see, it was just fate you survived it.”

_No! No Obi, please no, please not the arc…. Stop, please, please stop. Oh god, please stop. Please… not you too…. Obi…._

“You have one last golden egg to give.”

_No…._

“You really think that just because you have an idea, it belongs to you? You’re father helped give us the atomic bomb. What kind of world would this be today if he was as selfish as you?”

_Selfish?... Obi, put it back. Dear god, put it back. I can't breathe, Obi please. Please! Don’t-_

“Oh it’s beautiful. Ah Tony, this is your ninth symphony.”

_Don’t take it from me._

“What a masterpiece, look at that.”

 _It’s mine_.

“This is your legacy.”

_Give it back._

“A new generation of weapons with this and its heart.”

 _My heart…. It’s_ my _heart, Obi._

“Weapons that will help steer the world back on course.”

 _Obi_ … no.

“With the balance of power in our hands. The right hands.”

_I thought you were…._

“I wish you could see my prototype.”

… _better._

A few minutes later Tony’s sprawled in a corner of the workshop, gasping through unbelievable pain. The arc has been replaced with the old model, the one he only has thanks to Pepper’s sentimentality and – Pepper, he’s got to save Pepper!

But even as he suits up and flies away to fight Obi – Obadiah, the same thought keeps running through his mind. _So that’s what it feels like to actually have you heart ripped out of your chest_.

Honestly? It’s not that different from all the rest.

 +++++ 

In all honesty, Steve didn’t think that the 21rst century was really that hard to get used to. What _was_ hard, was getting used to the lifestyle of Tony Stark.

Steve had grown up during the depression and spent his adult years in the middle of the largest war the world had ever seen. He knew how to adjust quickly to dangerous or confusing situations and he knew how to persevere and keep working.

He did not, however, know how to party.

That’s what Tony said at least.

The life of a billionaire, genius, ex-playboy, philanthropist was not as shallow and easy as Steve had first presumed. And the galas that Tony had to attend bimonthly weren’t anywhere near the lavish and ostentatious affairs Steve had presumed. In actuality, they were related closest to a battlefield, and not the kind that Steve knew how to navigate.

It seemed that there were at least ten separate wars being fought in a single night at one of those dreaded events. Politics, money, fame, power, everybody had a goal and everybody had a plan of how to get it. It was every man and woman for themselves, and nobody could be trusted. The second you trusted someone was the second you got stabbed in the back.

It all made Steve rather miserable.

Masks, uniforms, dresses and tuxes were armor and camouflage and disguises and you could never be sure whom it really was hiding behind them. Casual conversations between partygoers were as dangerous as a meeting between neighboring warlords, with just as much promise for bloodshed.

It was horrific, confusing, anxiety inducing, and terribly, _terribly_ dangerous.

And Tony ruled the scene.

He danced and strode across the shimmering halls and lighted venues with all the grace and confidence of a dancer or a prince. His smiles were barbed wire designed not to keep others out, but to trap them in. He was calculating and one word from him was a devastating blow that could bring down an empire. Amidst a sea of socialites and millionaires and people more famous than god, Tony was the king.

The first party Steve ever attended with Tony and the other Avengers, Tony made a deal that earned him three billion dollars, trashed a company that was revealed to be selling weapons to terrorists, and broke off an engagement between two actors that would’ve led to the assassination of the groom.

The most impressive thing? He did all of this without a single person in the room besides the Avengers knowing. And the only reason his team did see was because, in Tony’s words, he was “training” them so they knew how to negotiate their way through the events themselves.

He’s smooth, and suave, and completely undetectable when he wants to be.

And there’s a reason behind it.

“I wanted to make him proud,” Tony confides in Steve one dark night thunder raging outside. Tony’s head is in Steve’s lap and the super soldier’s fingers are curled in his hair. “Everything I did – it was to make him proud. He died before I got the chance to. And that kind of broke me.”

It breaks Steve’s heart every time Tony talks about his past, all the people who failed him or left him or hurt him, or the people who were ripped from his life. It hurts Steve the most when Tony talks about Howard. Howard who, when Steve knew him, was kind and energetic and charismatic and just seemed to love life. Steve had once thought, sitting in the corner of Howard’s lab and watching the man with a soft smile, that he’d make such a great dad.

It was cruel how the war had changed some people.

Tony talks about Ty the most. The first person to win Tony’s heart in the traditional sense, only to break it. Steve secretly thinks Tony talks about him the most because it hurts the least; Tony can rationalize greed and cruelty. Ty set out to hurt him and he knows that. But with the others – Obadiah, Maria, Howard – Tony will never know if they actually did love him at some point. He will never know if maybe, in the dark of the night and staring at the bottom of a bottle, Howard once thought about how amazing Tony truly was. He didn’t know if those times Maria looked at him and smiled were alcohol induced hazes or if those smiles were her way of telling him she loved him. He would never know if the Uncle Obi from his childhood, the one that too him out on his birthday and commemorated his earliest inventions, was a lie or if he had actually loved Tony (he would never know what made him change his mind.)

It hurts Steve so much to hear Tony talk about them, but he listens anyway. Listens to Tony and hugs him and kisses away the pain. Because he knows. Knows that Tony tells him these things as a way of telling Steve,

 _“My heart is in your hands. Please don’t break it_ ,”

And that is the last thing Steve would ever do.

Tony’s heart was held together with duct tape and safety pins and hidden behind a metal barrier – literally. It was heavily guarded and injured, and so very, very precious. At least to Steve. To Steve, it was the most precious thing in the universe.

Tony had learned to be king so that no one could hurt him. He wore his masks and casually said cutting remarks to keep people away. In his experience, the people who were close to you and who loved you were the ones who could hurt you the deepest and the easiest. He was right, in a way, but Tony had lost so much it was hard for him to remember that not everyone wanted to hurt him.

After their disastrous first meeting on the hellicarrier, Steve had almost been permanently placed in Tony’s “Box of People Never to Talk to Again.” But despite this placement, Tony had still invited Steve to live at the Tower. (And Natasha, even though, according to Tony, she had actually been in the box, not just next to it.) Steve had immediately begun his apology plan, starting with bringing sandwiches down to the workshop for Tony to eat. After a while, he started bringing down two, and they would eat lunch together, sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes with Tony rambling a mile a minute. Steve started to draw in the workshop and suddenly it wasn’t just lunches that he spent down there.

Things went on normally and Steve didn’t even realize anything was happening until one morning he woke up in Tony’s bed, the genius pressed warmly against his body. It was… nice. After that, they became _them_ and nobody questioned it.

Steve had never been happier.

The first time Tony had a nightmare, Steve had literally chased him through the tower and followed him into the workshop where he’d wrapped Tony in a hug and then a blanket and they’d collapsed together on the couch. And the next three times when Tony tried to run, Steve had been right on his heels until the idiot finally learned it was okay to stay.

It wasn’t a one-sided deal either. Tony seemed to have a magical touch for bringing Steve out of his nightmares. (Most of them were about loosing Tony though, so he did have an unfair advantage in calming Steve down. Just waking up with Tony at his side soothed most of Steve’s night terrors.) The first time he dreamt about the ice, Tony had dragged him out of bed and into their kitchen where he’d made Steve burnt hot chocolate while blaring Foreigner’s “Hot Blooded.” Then Tony had forced Steve to watch _The Heat_ and Steve had been too busy laughing about all of Tony’s obvious warmth puns to think about his nightmare. Since then, it was tradition.

It sounded pretty perfect when Steve thought about it, but he and Tony fought all the time. Usually about Tony’s reckless tendencies or Steve’s ‘bossiness.’ It wasn’t perfect and even if they cuddled and comforted each other after the fact, nightmares were still nightmares and they were still awful. So it wasn’t perfect.

But, cliché as it was, Steve didn’t want perfect. He wanted Tony, and despite being the ‘epitome of human perfection’ Steve had just as many scratches as his lover. And Tony just wanted Steve. They were there to lift each other up, there to keep gluing the pieces of their hearts back together, and they would always catch the other when they fell.

And, Steve figured, things couldn’t be much more perfect than that.

**Author's Note:**

> Title vaguely taken from Michelle Featherstone's "Careful," which is also the soundtrack to the +1 part of this story. The dialogue in the scene with Obi does not belong to me.  
> Thanks for reading!


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